Barof looks both pensive and thoughtful, as he steeples his huge hands before his face.
After some deliberation he looks up "Toblin, I would speak to Malthalamus a moment, would you mind fetching some nectare from the barn croft?"
Blake looks a little surprised, before smiling in deference "Of course, please excuse me" with that he taks his leave and quietly steps outside.

Barof looks at Curren "The waters beyond the dam, are glacial waters, filled with eons of primal power and energy, once the dam is breached they will seek to consume everything within their orginal bed"

Before Curren can reply he continues "Great earthworks had to be undertaken to contain them, many died, the hamlet will be swept away!
I understand that you must do this, but in order to save the Hamlet you will have to find another way!"
Barof gives Curren an encouraging smile, which again rings that mental bell, a wave of recognition passes over him, but not quite enough to anchor the memory to reveal the tale to be told!

As this irritating familiarity of recognition flashes across his mind again a few paragraphs of the feared diary come unbidden to his memory; the words caress him and mock him with their cryptic words:

There is lambswool under my naked feet.
The wool is soft and warm,
- gives off some kind of heat.
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
The fleas cling to the golden fleece,
Hoping theyll find peace.
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.
Theres no hiding in my memory.
Theres no room to avoid.

The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor.
For my second sight of people, theyve more lifeblood than before.
Theyre moving in time to a heavy wooden door,
Where the needles eye is winking, closing in on the poor.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out.

Theres only one direction in the faces that I see;
Its upward to the ceiling, where the chambers said to be.
Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree.
They are pulled up by the magnet, believing theyre free.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out

Mild mannered supermen are held in kryptonite,
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing
Bright.
Through a door a harvest feast is lit by candlelight;
Its the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out

The porcelain mannikin with shattered skin fears attack.
The eager pack lift up their pitchers - they carry all they lack.
The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the crack,
And the tickler takes his stickleback.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out.*

Toblin Blake clambered down the wooden ladder from the croft, a large ceramic jug full of nectar.
Beneath the soft yellow lantern light he walked across the barns floor, smiling at the whinnying of 'Barof's stallion.
The two mares snorted intolerantly at their highly strung neighbour.
Stepping into the night air, he breathed in deeply, he sensed that things were due to change and that their way of life may never be the same again.

Strolling back to the cabin, he stopped and watched the frenzied dance of a group of fireflies outside of the lounge window.

The troll looked slightly perplexed, as if not expecting that question to be asked, with that he is silent for a number of minutes measuring his response.
"Firstly I think you must ask yourself what do you owe this town?" he finally replies

"Absolutely!" says Barof, rising to his feet, he smiles "This way" and leads a weary Curren through to a large guest bedroom, a homely room, earthen tones,
with wooden beams making up the walls, floors and ceiling. A warm bed, of thick linens and woven throws, beckons invitingly.

As Curren settled down to a dreamless sleep he pondered, firstly did you dream when already within a dream.
The second thing was why was 'Barof' so bloody familiar!
His deep thought did the trick before he knew it, Malthalamus Curren was soundly asleep.

Curren stirred in the large comfortable bed as the sound of the morning chorus, and the rich warming sunlight entered the room. The suns rays, peppered with the fine household dust seemed to beckon his still form; and he woke up squinting as the warming beams shone on his face.

He yawned, and stretched languidly.

His sleep had been fitful and deep; and as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes he realised with a deep relief that the doubts and fears he had experienced last night had dissipated for now.

He smiled broadly and shook his head softly, â€˜Shame I couldnâ€™t make a full time of this metaplanar malarkey!â€™ he thought as he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side to relieve the tightness of his muscles.

The spare room of Barofâ€™s was quite sparse of decoration and furniture. The bed naturally took up almost a third of it, and other than a large wardrobe and a bedside table there was nothing else in there. The walls were decked out with pine wooden slats that still gave off their original fresh, clean, woody aroma even though they had obviously been varnished a very long time ago.
Strangely, nothing adorned the walls. No pictures or paintings, so he assumed that the room was rarely used.

Curren sensed the memories of this room through the pinewood smell; both happy memories and sad, and not for the last time he regretted his ability to see beyond the mundane. Sometimes he just craved normality, it was a lot simpler that way.

Currens feet fell deep into the thick beige shag pile carpet as he stood up to look out of the large bay window that dominated the far end of the room.

He was pleased to see that it was going to be another pleasant day. Down the grassy, flower strewn hill he noticed that the white centre stone of the little hamlet he had seen yesterday glimmered and shone with a brilliant white from where the sunâ€™s rays reflected off it. An unearthly pure white he thought; that niggled his memory and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

From his overview of the hamlet, he could clearly see the circular pebble path around the stoneâ€™s earthen rise. He noticed that with the smaller paths leading away from it, that he had been correct in his deduction yesterday that it in fact did form a basic symbol that looked like a childâ€™s drawing of the sun.
However as the Englishman took in the symbols shape and context; he reckoned that it was symmetrical with some geometrical pattern instilled into it.

â€˜Remember to go and have a proper look at that laterâ€™ he thought as he dressed swiftly, made the bed and left the room to seek Barof out; as a plan was forming that would require the trolls advice and guidance.

Curren has now decided that any demolition to the dam is out of the question. He realises that 'Karma' is the definitive force in all actions; and as this test revolves essentially around the conversion of karmic energies (good or bad) he has adjusted his plans accordingly.

Its amazing what a nights sleep can do to an astral traveller!

What he is going to endeavor to do is to summon the orders Avatar and humbly request that he acts as a medium to the spirits of earth and water (of whom Curren will attempt to summon). Curren will attempt to find out if an accord can be reached between Earth and Water for them to work together so the water can continue down its original natural course without any danger to the hamlet or other settlements down river.

It could be a simple case of some sort of magical gate which opens at certain times to let a certain amount of water out. This obviously will be hammered out once everything is in place for the ritual/summoning etc.

It was the next evening and Malthalamus Curren stood beside the stone.
A pentangle stretched out across the floor the red and sienna ochres washing the timber ceiling beams like some aboriginal painting.

As Curren began to intone, a deep bass chant the metaplanar world swam, his MetaMantic forces reached out to the stone, and the stone responded.

The stone responded with a power that Curren had not expected, as he felt his way around it astrally he found a security, a firm or metaplanar density that he hadn't anticipated.
His attention was drawn by further etheric movements outside, maintain the threads of power that swam from the stone he stepped onto the veranda of the cabin.

Before him stood two towering beings, a being of air, its form the colour of the deepest azure skies, jagged flowers of grey ice burst from its form, make it appear in every sense like an enormous Jack Frost.
The next being stood opposite, some 15 feet tall resembling a knight in armour, but lacking the smooth curvature of metal, instead its armour was made out of raw stone, molten eyes glowing from within its granite visor.

Curren could sense that these two elemental creatures were not mere spirits, but titans of their respective planes.
Each glared at the other, until the frosted wind spirit turned, its eyes glowing jewels of sharp edged ice, boring into Curren with inhuman intensity and wonder.

"So what does the one who fought at the First Battle of Crab Orchard Lake seek?" its question leaving a layer of frost upon Currens face and chilling him to the core.

Curren sensed that for the first time he was truly within the centre of events, the stones power emanated singing to him, the elemental powers awaited his answer, the Avatar awaited his answer before its manifestation.

The world swam, crucial decisions and the future weighed upon Malthalamus Currens shoulders, this was more than the simple destruction of a dam or the learning of a ritual, but would lead to greater things still.

Curren stood frozen in the etheric soup and was but an onlooker as his Avatar took on the task of placating the powerful spirits.

'To agree that the proud bones of the earth in this instance can be permeable as well as impenetrable' The Avatar stepped forward with the mans flesh body towards the entities.

'To agree that the dew of the world must be contained sometimes to sustain life; but is essentially a force that needs freedom to thrive and preserve all life that it touches.' The Curren/Avatar took another step forward towards them.

'To convince the astral beings that live within your bounds and have created this construct that an accord must be made which benefits all'

The Avatar stepped forward again.

Last edited by Curren on Sun Oct 18, 2009 7:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Curren sensed the shift, the Avatars form overlayed upon his own the two Elemental powers stared seemingly now waiting for something to occure.
At first he couldn't fathom what was changing or at what etheric depth, then his attention focused.

Back to the stone, he then realised, the stone was an anchor, a foundation stone its significance was what had drawn the two powers, rather than mere spirits responding to a summoning.
It held the domain, stablised it and immortalise it.

Are they talking about the three of us (my avatar with me) forming a circle around the stone and the accord will be made?

Of is this really a node of power? Similar to Crab Orchard Lake?

GM wrote:Yes they are suggesting that you reach an accord by forming a circle.
Its not a Node but a domain, the Stone anchors the domain making it permanent rather realms that are etherial and disolve once explored.

'I understand.' Curren's voice buzzed and crackled hollowly from the Avatar that surrounded him. And as one, both the ethereal armoured knight and the human instinctively moved into position beside the stone.

With a flourish from nowhere so it seemed, a sword appeared in the avatars huge hands. It was a blade that pulsed and glowed faintly with living lights of infinite colours, and the pulsing darkness of entropy and the void.

The swords design and type shifted intermittently in the avatars hands, one moment a beautiful shining longsword, a rusty tulwar the next. The physical changes in the blade gained in momentum until the weapon flickered and shifted so quickly between the multitudes of blade types that it became insubstantial. Forms of the blades of Law, Balance and Chaos were represented in the avatars hands; and it lifted this lethal symbol in a salute to the standing stone that was the heart of the domain.

â€˜I am readyâ€™ Curren/Avatar intoned together, in a voice that rumbled like thunder.

"Don't play with your food" snapped granny
Curren frowned, scolded like a child, however the elderly ladies demeanor brooked no arguement or impertience.
Baroff suppressed a smile and dug into his roast.

The meal was delicious it was the weight of events that was stripping 'Malthalamus' of his appetite.
They sat within an old farmhouse cottage, a warm cosy room, that reminded Curren of days long past.
At the great oak tables center sat a glass sphere not unlike a fishbowl, within it the village sat, â€˜Toblin Blakeâ€™ tended to his vegetable plot.

â€œSo what do you careâ€ the elderly woman scowled
â€œWhat, I mean pardon?â€ replied Curren rising from his reverie
â€œThis is a dream, a figment, what do you care to break it to achieve your goal, havenâ€™t you dallied around enoughâ€ she snapped
â€œAnd before you give me the good of mankind speech, why do you really care?â€ her eyes narrowed
Before Malthalamus Curren responded he noticed that Barof had vanished from his seat, looking back to the bowl he saw the old troll walking up the hill towards his cabin.
He turned and waved, or rather more saluted, before entering the old building.

Curren smiled at the image in the sphere and then looked up into the eyes of the guardian.
â€˜Because this is my psyche Iâ€™m dealing with here, its not a dream. My hopes and fears of the future are all mapped out here.â€™ He reached over and picked up the glass sphere. â€˜When I meet someone or something in the ether of astral space, it is a reflection of me in some respect, be it good or bad. And I must conquer my failings, or fail in the attempt.â€™

â€˜The decisions I make here have repercussions that echo through to the physical world, decisions that I donâ€™t make lightly.â€™ The travellerâ€™s eyes softened.

â€˜And in all honesty I feel more at home in the astral planes, I have an affinity to these boundless and infinite tracts of the soul. I feel at home here.â€™

â€˜But, like any pleasant â€˜dreamâ€™ as you put it; it must come to an end for now.â€™

The traveller stood and bowed to the old lady. â€˜Thank you for the meal, it was very nice.â€™

Caliburn Black pulled over from the freeway, he sensed the change, the rumblings upon the ether.
Frank Drake sat upright from his snooze, he also sensed the rumblings.
Both soldiers sensed great motion and movement through their Metamagical links.

The rumbling shook the hill, smaller logs tumbled off 'Barof's roof.
Curren watched as an immense breach appeared vertically on the dam, the weight of the lake beyond widening the crack until the entire dam wall surrendered and collasped.
A sense of horror and exhilaration filled him as the waters thundered down into the valley and towards the village.

The ground erupted, exploding as a column of ashen brown stone blasted through the ether.
The column or obelisk caught Curren full on and propelled him into the etheric skies, tearing through astral clouds and the fabric of worlds.